


Return to Cairo

by impossiblepluto



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, References to Cairo (MacGyver TV 2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23614957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto
Summary: A short "cold-open" type story of Mac and Jack's return to Cairo
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 66





	Return to Cairo

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Cairo Week Eve!
> 
> The final prompt for the first Cairo Day in 2019 was "Return to Cairo." I wrote a bit of a beginning and a bit of an ending but never finished it. I like the nebulous unknown of what happened to them on the mission they refuse to talk about. 
> 
> While looking through some old drafts as I was preparing stuff for this coming week I stumbled upon it and cleaned it up a bit. It still doesn't have a middle, but just think of it as that same type of ambiguous disaster as their first mission.
> 
> Enjoy, and I'll see you guys tomorrow for the official start of Cairo Day 2020!

"I don't like being this close, dude," Jack grumbles from behind Mac's shoulder, where the kid is tricking the biometric security scanners. He surveys the room for any sign they’ve been made and things are about to go south on them.

"Alexandria is over two hundred klicks away from--"

"Don't say it!" Jack interrupts, whirling, reaching around and slamming his fingers over Mac's mouth. His eyes roving quickly around the lab, making sure no one overheard what Mac was about to say. "Don't even think it. Not this close."

"Move your hand," Mac grumbles around Jack's fingers.

Jack gives him a warning look then pulls his hand away. His eyes still scanning the area, prepared for anything.

Mac hates to admit it. 

No, actually, on pain of death he will never admit it, because that would get Jack going again. Send him off the deep end and Mac would never be able to rein him in. But, deep down, Mac will concede that he is feeling just as apprehensive as Jack. He's just hiding it under a very calm, cool exterior.

Cairo was bad.

So bad.

Like take all their close calls, and bad mission and pour them in a bottle. Add some explosives, poisons, and snakes, and shake and that would maybe be an inkling to how bad Cairo was.

Mac doesn't really think it's the city itself, though weird things happened on that mission that he cannot explain. 

And the city is old. Really old. Places with this much history are weak points in the fabric of reality. Things bleed through.  Mystical things that can’t possibly exist. Metaphysical things that don’t have an earthly explanation. 

Now he's sounding like Jack. He’s spent the last several years researching scientific explanations to quell some of Jack’s more fanciful superstitions, but it hasn’t been easy.

Speaking of, missions when Jack is this jumpy always end up in a mess.

Jack's got, well, he would call it a spidey sense, and let's just go with that. It's the easier explanation. Jack isn't a nervous, anxious guy, though sometimes he plays that for laughs, or to make people underestimate him. 

He has a healthy respect for things supernatural, doesn't want to mess around with what he doesn't understand, but sometimes Jack knows things.

Mac knows that it's probably subconscious pattern recognition, that comes from years of experience, but sometimes when Jack knows things he couldn't possibly know, or yells at Mac to drop and a bullet explodes where he was standing, when there was no sign of hostiles anywhere, it feels like Jack has some sort of sixth sense.

Jack calls that his sixth Mac sense, able to sense when the kid is in danger.

"What if the curse is a proximity thing? Huh?" Jack asks. "We don't know how close we can be to," Jack glances around again then looks back at Mac, "the city which must not be named, and still be out of range."

"But is it the city or is it the day? Because last year at the Phoenix was a pretty awful C-"

"Dude, are you listening to me? Don't draw attention to us by saying that name out loud. You don't know if they're listening."

"Who?"

"The mummies, or the sun gods or those evil cat-moo-god things."

“You mean Mau?”

The door to the safe clicks. Jack's eyes slam shut and he braces as Mac pulls the heavy door open. Cautiously, he opens an eyelid. Mac steps into the large safe as Jack watches the room.

"Got it," Mac says, returning triumphantly a moment later, sliding the canister into his messenger bag.

"Really?" Jack asks. "We can split?"

Mac slaps his shoulder. "Let's go home."

Jack remains tense. "Man, I don't like this." Continuing when he sees Mac raise an eyebrow. "We arrive in Alexandria. Walk into the building. Open a safe. Grab the canister. Walk out."

Mac rolls his eyes. "It was slightly more complicated than that."

"I don't like it." Jack repeats, remaining alert as ever as he follows Mac out of the building and into the streets. "It's never a walk in, walk out kind of mission. They don't waste our talents on those missions, even if Matty says it's supposed to be easy. They're never easy, Mac."

"We still have to catch a ride on the tour bus back towards ex-fil," Mac says. "Plenty of time for something to go wrong if you're feeling like your skills were underutilized for this mission."

"You are just askin' for trouble saying that out loud. Or a pop in the mouth."

The tour bus is waiting when they arrive at the stop. And if Jack notices Mac breathe a sigh of relief, he'll blame it on getting out of the heat and into the cool interior of the coach. Ever on alert, they scan the other passengers, watching for any signs of trouble, as they pass up the aisle, before settling into their seats. Though neither one relaxes.

The engine rumbles and slowly the bus pulls out of the station, gently swaying as it rolls down the road. Mac's fingers twitch and fumble with the clasp on his bag until Jack hands him a paperclip. He immediately begins twisting it with nimble fingers.

He can hear Jack, under his breath mumbling the words to 'On the Road' again, and smiles. No road trip is complete without an appropriate soundtrack, even if the music is only in Jack's brain, as one song ends and he breaks into Steppenwolf next. 

"Get your motor runnin’. Head out on the highway."

Mac hopes that maybe the music will help his partner relax. They’re just feeding off of each other’s tensions now.

He glances around the bus again but freezes as something new catches his attention on this perusal. "Jack, I'm going to need you not to freak out."

"Oh, bud, that is the wrong thing to say." It seems impossible but Jack sits up straighter and his shoulders become even more tense.

"I think we're on the wrong bus."

“What?”

“Yeah.”

Jack closes his eyes. "I'm afraid to ask, but do you know where this bus is headed?"

"Three guesses, the first two don't count."

"Oh man, I told you. They know we're here. They're drawing us back in to finish us off."

"It's just a --"

Jack hisses, trying to keep his voice down. "A what, Mac? A coincidence? A fluke? That two highly trained agents get on the wrong bus and head back to the city that's actively tried to kill them?"

"I admit that this is getting weird."

"We gotta figure out what we did, hoss. Who did we piss off and how do we make it right."

Mac opens his mouth to respond but the bus shimmies violently before the first word is even out of his mouth.

* * *

A steady chirp of cicadas, the calming music of summer. The sun is low in the sky, almost beneath the horizon, leaving splashes of red, orange and purple.

Laying on a worn blanket in the grass, Mac inhales the sweet smell of hay. He's waiting for nightfall when, this far away from the city lights, the stars will blaze brilliantly. It's one of his favorite things about being on the ranch.

Jack flops onto the blanket next to him, staring at the sky. He starts to tuck both arms behind his head, winces and settles for keeping his right arm laying across his chest. "You're not getting a chill out here are ya?"

"It's still at least seventy-five degrees."

"Yeah, but exploding buses and knife wounds make me a little more protective than usual."

Mac snorts and turns the tables. "How's your shoulder? Pretty sure the doc said you were supposed to keep that sling on until your follow up appointment."

"It's in the same position it would be if I had the sling on," Jack glances down at the offending appendage.

"The point was to rest it."

"Have you seen me bustin' any broncs since we got here?" Jack asks. "Besides, doc told you to take it easy too."

"I am resting."

"Yeah, but I saw you climb up that tree to rescue the kids' frisbee." Jack continues seeing, even in the fading light, the look of surprise on Mac's face. "That's right. Now I've got a whole army looking out for Cousin Mac, and reporting back to me anytime you do anything dumb. They think it's great, a new game, something to pass the time between barbeques and waiting for the fireworks."

"You're turning your nieces and nephews into spies?"

"Emmy is particularly good at it. And she loves the chance to protect her hero," Jack teases, causing a blush to creep onto Mac's face. "Saving Daltons is what you were made to do. Two of them owe you Wookie-life debts." Jack continues, referencing the first time that he brought Mac home to be adopted and spoiled by his family.

Mac is saved from further teasing when Jack's niece in question bounds over. Her arms are full of a squirming golden puppy. She slows as she nears the blankets and sits down gently so as not to accidentally bump into Mac.

She's been remarkably subdued around him since they arrived. Jack had called to warn the family, first that he and Mac might not make it for the family reunion. The knife wound had been serious. And then that they were coming but they might be a little colorful.

The bruises are stark on Mac’s face and he’s endured a lot of concern and coddling this weekend. One of these visits he won’t be too injured to take the horses out on the trail ride Jack’s been promising. 

"Hey, Em'" Mac greets, reaching over to scratch the puppy's head, and his hand is attacked by furious licking from its little pink tongue.

She watches him carefully. Familiar, worried, brown eyes in a tiny face. He wonders if all Daltons have the same eyes and penchant for rescuing strays. 

“How’s puppy training going?” Mac asks and she dips her head when he smiles at her. She’s the quietest Dalton he’s ever met. 

“Good, he’s really smart. Want to see?” 

“Absolutely.”

She puts the wriggling ball of fur and fun on the ground and Mac worries for a second that he’s going to go tearing off on a puppy adventure, but his tongue lolls, he yawns and looks up at his mistress. 

“Sit,” Emmy commands and the pup drops his hindquarters to the ground and yawns. 

“Wow, look at that!” Jack praises.

“That wasn’t the trick, Uncle Jack,” Emmy laughs. “Lay down.” The puppy obeys. 

“Mac, you could learn something from the pup. Not the puppy eyes though. Don’t try pulling that with me.” 

“Roll over.” Tiny furry legs kick into the air, and he gets stuck halfway over on his back for a second. He yips. Wiggling and squirming before flopping over onto his other side. He leaps up and licks Emmy’s face. 

“That’s great, Em!” 

“He can do one more. Play dead.” 

The pup flops over onto his side again. 

“Wow, he’s smart! You did a great job training him. Does he have a name yet?” Mac asks, reaching out to stroke the dog’s soft ears. 

Emmy wrinkles her nose and shakes her head.

Jack hums. “Smart, blonde… how about Angus?”

Emmy laughs. “Angus?”

Mac laughs too. “Yeah, Jack, what kind of name is Angus?”

Jack opens his mouth and then realizes Emmy’s probably never heard him referred to as anything except Mac. “You’re right. That’d be like giving the poor pup a name like Carl’s Jr. or something.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Mac encourages. 

The sun dips lower, behind the horizon and the stars start twinkling. Emmy curls up on the blanket, falling asleep between her two favorite relatives, her still unnamed, despite many suggestions, puppy tucked under her arm.

Jack gently scratches the dog’s head. Then reaches and pats Mac’s shoulder “I thought we were goners for sure this time, dude.”

“It was… it was bad.” Mac admits. “But I still don’t think it was as bad as our first Cairo Day.”

“That’s cause you can’t remember half of Cairo day part deux. The sequels are always worse. And this was definitely worse than OG Cairo. And shush, the first rule of Cairo is not to say Cairo.”

“You just said Cairo four times.” 

Jack harrumphs. 

“Maybe we just need a positive Cairo experience to break the curse.”

“Oh, he--” he pauses, glances down at his sleeping niece and continues. “Heck no dude, I’m not going back there.”

* * *

Jack opens his eyes slowly, a smile crossing his face at the sight of his childhood bedroom, now unofficially 'the boys’ room' during family gatherings. Usually, he’s up bright and early on their visits to the ranch but between still healing and his late night conversation with Mac under the stars, til the wee morning hours, the sun is streaming through the windows by the time he wakes. 

He hears the rustling of his family bustling through the house. Sounds like breakfast dishes are being put away, and the screen door slams a few times with cousins coming in and out. He stretches and his shoulder pops. 

Emmy giggles, footsteps running down the hallway and the patter of puppy paws follows her. She’s singing something, takes after her Uncle Jack that way. Always got a song in her heart, her head or on her lips.

Clap. "A- I- R-O."

Jack frowns.

Clap. "A-I-R-O."

_ What? _

Clap. "A-I-R-O and Cairo was it's name-O"

Jack sits up so fast on the top bunk that he nearly smacks his head on the ceiling. He hears Mac cackling in the bunk under him. He swings his head and shoulders over the edge of the bunk, hanging upside down to look at Mac. 

"What did you do?"

Mac shrugs innocently. "Guess Em finally thought of a name for her puppy.”


End file.
